


my boyfriend, the ex-spy.

by matildajones



Series: Tumblr Fics [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Librarian Derek, M/M, Spy Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7811710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matildajones/pseuds/matildajones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Are you a spy?” he says.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“You could call me that,” Stiles snorts.</i>
</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Derek tries to live a normal life... it's hard when his boyfriend used to travel around the world shooting the bad guys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my boyfriend, the ex-spy.

_June, 2015_

Derek blinks himself awake. His whole body aches, his hands are tied behind his back, and he barely knows what happened to get him here.

“You’re awake,” says a voice, gruff and loud. “Tell me everything you know about this man.”

His kidnapper forces Derek’s chin up and it takes a long, long moment before Derek can focus on the photograph in front of him. It’s a slightly blurry shot, black and white, but Derek recognizes the man in the photograph.

It’s someone he is already half in love with.

“Stiles,” Derek slurs. He closes his eyes, confused, and feels something cold against his head. His heart thuds when he realizes it’s a gun. “Why do you care about Stiles?”

Before anyone explains anything, there’s a loud bang from somewhere in the building. People start shouting orders at each other, there’s the sound of gunfire, and Derek tries to break free of the ropes but it’s no use.

He thinks maybe that he’s going to die. He wants to wake up from this nightmare, wants to see his family one more time, but then someone steps into the room. Derek watches in awe as he sees Stiles – clumsy, beautiful, sarcastic Stiles – move with deadly grace as he disarms half a dozen men.

Derek lurches back when Stiles lifts a gun and fires it. Someone falls to the ground.

“Hey, hey, Derek,” Stiles says, when there are no more threats. Derek can’t look at him, but those amber eyes suddenly look so warm. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Derek flinches when Stiles touches him. Stiles’ expression falters.

“Derek, it’s okay.”

“Who – who are you?” Derek manages, wincing as Stiles frees him. Stiles doesn’t answer.

–

Derek has always had a quiet life. He likes keeping to himself, has had the same friends for years, and he enjoys his small town job.

 He didn’t think he’d ever meet someone like Stiles – someone who disrupted his life, who dragged him out at midnight for coffee, who challenged him and who was so goddamn attractive that sometimes Derek couldn’t breathe.

He just didn’t expect this.

Derek thinks about ignoring the knock on the door – it’s 2am after all – but something tells him that it’s going to be Stiles standing there. Stiles, who just shot a man in front of Derek. He should be scared, he should be angry, but Stiles saved him.

Derek opens the door.

“Hey,” says Stiles, surprised. He’s wearing normal clothes and he looks so… normal. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Derek says gruffly.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Stiles says, running a hand through his hair. He smiles lopsidedly, and Derek’s heart thuds. “I came here to say goodbye.”

Derek’s head snaps up.

Stiles glances over his shoulder. “I – I shouldn’t be here. But I wanted to see if you were okay before I left.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t know what to say. All he knows is that he doesn’t want Stiles to leave.

Derek clears his throat as Stiles turns away. “Do you – do you want a beer?”

Stiles whips around. His brown eyes widen in surprise and then he’s smiling, shy and happy. Derek holds open the door and Stiles steps through. He takes off his coat and this time Derek sees that he has a gun. Stiles is carrying a gun.

“Oh,” Stiles says, covering it up quickly.

Derek narrows his eyes and walks slowly to the kitchen. He returns with two beers and Stiles is biting his lip worriedly.

“Why are you leaving?”

“I’m not needed here after tonight,” Stiles answers. Derek raises an eyebrow, because that certainly does not count as an explanation. “The threat was eliminated.”

Derek takes a breath. “Those men… are they dead?”

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?”

Stiles looks up, eyes sharp. “Yes.”

“I – I don’t know who you are, anymore,” Derek says quietly, placing the beers on the table before keeping to the edge of the room. He hears Stiles’ breath hitch, pained.

Stiles lowers his voice. “Derek – you, you know who I am,” he says softly. “I’m the guy who has two sugars in his coffee, who likes reading the books you recommend me, who likes arguing with you about superheroes and, and exercise routines and –” He shakes his head and looks more flustered than Derek has ever seen him. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this. I had been spending too much time with you and that’s why they took you.”

“They showed me a picture of you.”

Stiles frowns, and his eyes look calculating, like he’s figuring something out. Derek isn’t sure what to think, what to feel. He just saw Stiles do incredible – scary, but incredible – things. He had moved so fluidly, like he had years and years of experience.

Derek takes a few steps and sits on the edge of the couch. Stiles does the same and there’s a few feet of space between them.

“When are you leaving?”

“In about two hours.” He pauses. “Why aren’t you mad?”

Derek glares at him. “I’m tired. My head hurts. I’m too busy trying to figure out who you are, and what you do, and if you always say goodbye to the people who get caught in the crossfire of your life.”

Stiles speaks quietly. “Just you.”

“What?”

“I normally leave without saying goodbye.”

Derek lets out a shaky breath. He wishes this had all never happened, he wishes he didn’t have to see Stiles hurt anyone. They could’ve become something – even if they had only just become friends.

Stiles comes closer to him. “Derek – I – I work for the government. I’m not a bad guy. I promise. I need you to know that before I leave.”

Derek closes his eyes. He feels slightly concerned that the government wants Stiles to do those things but it means Derek’s not so insane for still wanting him. He trusts that Stiles is telling the truth, even if it’s probably a stupid thing to do.

“Are you a spy?” he says.

“You could call me that,” Stiles snorts, but then he slowly moves his hand across the couch. Derek meets his eyes, unsure if Stiles has been feeling the same things as him for all these months.

Derek holds his breath and tangles their fingers together anyway. Stiles’ skin is warm, his hands calloused, his touch gentle. Stiles’ fingertips trace the inside of Derek’s palm and he wonders how Stiles could have been so violent, ruthless.

“Stay,” Derek whispers.

“I can’t.”

Derek looks down. “I want you to.”

Stiles makes a noise. “Derek, you only got hurt because of me.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles says, voice hard. Derek pulls his hand away.

“Why did you come here, then?” Derek snaps. “Why did you just try and convince me that you’re still the same person? Did you do this on purpose? Did you just come into my life to take yourself away again?”

Stiles’ jaw hardens. “No. No – you weren’t meant to happen.”

Derek feels his heart breaking. “Will I ever see you again?”

Stiles hesitates, but then he’s shaking his head.

“You might die and I wouldn’t even know.”

Stiles nods. He doesn’t even try to deny it, and Derek is hit with a sudden longing to hold him close. Derek doesn’t want to see him walk out of here. He wants Stiles to give up the life Derek’s only just learnt about and come live with him.

He thinks that they’d be happy together.

“Stiles,” he says, voice low.

Stiles stands. He looks nervous. “I should go.”

Derek shakes his head. He gets up and blocks Stiles’ path to the door, stepping closer and cupping Stiles’ jaw. Stiles’ eyelashes flutter.

“Don’t go.”

Stiles looks awed, confused. “How do you still want me?”

“You can’t fake being a good person that easily.”

“Yes, you can!” Stiles says, frustrated, but Derek can’t wait a moment longer before kissing him. Stiles’ protests die quickly, and then he’s clutching back at Derek, holding him close as their mouths move together.

It leaves Derek breathless, and when they break apart he keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to watch Stiles leave.

–

_July, 2016_

A year later, Derek hasn’t forgotten about Stiles. He almost thinks it was a dream, that whole night – the kiss, the danger, but there’s a small scar on Derek’s shoulder that says otherwise.

“Yes, cute guy left town unexpectedly,” Laura says. “But, Derek, you’ve got to move on. It’s been a year and you said that you barely knew him.”

Derek ignores her. He thought he knew Stiles so well until that night – well enough to want to know everything else about him. Derek still wants to know what it would be like to touch him, to wake up with him each morning, to just be with him.

One kiss wasn’t enough.

“I think he’s a dick,” Laura says cheerfully. “The internet exists. He could still keep in contact with you.”

Derek looks up at her. “Do you remember when he came to my apartment with his arm all cut up by glass?”

“Yeah, like he had punched a hole through a window,” she says, taking a bite of her food. They’re sitting in the middle of the café, one of Laura’s attempts to cheer Derek up. “I told you he was an idiot – he refused to go to the hospital. I had to stitch his hand up then and there!”

Derek gives her a dry look. “Thank God you’re a nurse.”

She sighs. “We shouldn’t even be talking about him. It’s been forever.”

“He’s kind of unforgettable,” Derek says quietly.

Laura is quiet for a moment. She knows how vibrant Stiles was, she knows the risks he made Derek take, knows he allowed Derek to step outside his comfort zone with so many things. Derek wouldn’t call himself adventurous, but he was that, with Stiles by his side.

He wonders how many of those things had to do with the threat Stiles was taking care of. Derek assumes Stiles was undercover, and now Derek desperately wants to know his real name.

“Okay,” Laura says. “I’m going to set you up on a date if you can’t find someone by the end of the week.”

“What! Laura!”

She looks pleased with herself. “That’s plenty of time, and then you can get over that jackass.”

Derek glowers. “He wasn’t a jackass.”

“Then why did he leave?”

Derek doesn’t answer her and she looks smug. He can’t exactly say that Stiles was a _spy_. It would sound ridiculous, and Derek only believes it because he saw it with his own eyes.

Stiles had messaged him, one last time.

_Don’t tell anyone. Please. For your own safety._

Derek reluctantly agrees to Laura’s dating scheme, but he doesn’t think it will work. It’s not like he doesn’t want to get over Stiles – he does – but he wants someone as good as Stiles. His expectations are so fucking high now; he doesn’t want to settle for someone who doesn’t make him feel something.

He kisses Laura on the cheek when they part ways, and Derek walks the short distance to the library he works at. It’s nice there, quiet. He volunteers to shelf the books so that he can do something mindless.

The day is long but Derek doesn’t mind. He’s thinking about what he should make for dinner when he walks outside, but he stops short. He can see the silhouette of someone sitting on his car.

He moves slowly, unsure, because Derek’s is the only car left in the lot.

“Hello?” Derek calls out.

“Hey.”

Derek stops. He recognizes that voice.

Stiles gets up, chewing his lip. He moves carefully, like he’s not sure of his welcome. Derek stares at him.

“I didn’t know if you wanted to see me,” Stiles says. “But, um, I’m here anyway.”

Derek’s eyes trail up and down his body. He’s wearing a police uniform, nicely fitted over his muscles. Derek has no idea what to say.

Stiles runs a hand through his hair. “Derek? Please say something.”

“How long are you here for?”

Stiles meets his gaze. “Forever.”

Derek’s eyes widen. He takes a tentative step closer.

“I want a life with you,” Stiles admits quietly. “And – and I know you’re not with anyone.”

“You _spied_ on me?” Derek scowls.

“Maybe,” he says quickly. “I just – it was time to renew my contract, for, you know. But I didn’t want to. I want to be with you. I got a job at the police station.”

“It’s a good fit,” he says faintly.

“Yeah,” he says, waiting.

Derek isn’t sure what to do, but he’s missed Stiles so fucking much over the past year. He didn’t even know if Stiles was _alive_ , and now he’s here, looking utterly gorgeous.

Derek opens up his arms, Stiles’ eyes widen, and then he’s rushing over. He throws himself against Derek’s body and Derek holds him for a long, long time.

At least now he can tell his sister he has a date.

–

_August, 2016_

Derek watches as Stiles brings in about half a dozen boxes when Stiles moves in. A part of him thinks it’s too soon – that they should date for at least a year before they commit to this, but Derek doesn’t want to wait any longer.

“Is this all?”

Stiles looks up. “Um. Yeah? It’s just clothes and…stuff.”

Derek folds his arms. “Stuff?”

He nods sheepishly, and Derek walks over to one of the boxes. Stiles half-heartedly tries to stop him but Derek opens the box and he almost faints.

Guns.

There are so many guns. Derek turns to Stiles. “No.”

“Derek –”

“I don’t want them in my house!”

Stiles pouts. “How am I supposed to protect you without anything?”

Derek closes the box. He really doesn’t need to see all those guns – and other things. His skin is still crawling from the sight of them.

“Why do I need protecting?”

Stiles’ face goes dark like it sometimes does. Derek feels unsettled, but he wants this with Stiles anyway. He knows there might be some kind of risk, being with him, but it has to be worth it.

“Are these legal?”

Stiles stays quiet.

“Stiles!”

“What do you expect, Derek? This was my life. All I have are weapons and… clothes. I don’t have a life yet,” he says.

Derek takes a step forward. He gently puts his hands on Stiles’ waist, draws him closer. That burn in Stiles’ eyes has disappeared, and now there’s warmth and a little bit of sadness.

“You can have that now,” Derek reminds him, pressing their lips together.

Stiles sighs, kisses him back, winds his arms around Derek’s neck. The hold each other for a few moments. It’s peaceful, nice.

Derek pulls back. “You’re still getting rid of the weapons.”

–

Derek lays Stiles on his bed that night, kissing him deeply. They haven’t done this yet even though Derek has wanted it.

Stiles has insisted they go on a few dates first and spend time with each other after a year apart. Stiles gets a giddy expression on his face when he’s with Derek, when he’s doing things just for the sake of doing them.

They have ice-cream together, play cards together, go to the movies together. Sometimes Derek notices the way Stiles always looks over his shoulder when they’re out, like he’s looking for threats and danger.

Derek wonders if that will ever go away.

Stiles breaks away from him and takes a deep breath. “Derek,” he says.

Derek smiles at him. They’re both still clothed.

“I’m not good at this,” Stiles says.

“You’re doing fine so far.”

“What if you don’t want me? What if I threw that life away, and you don’t end up wanting me?” Stiles says. “I’m not normal.”

Derek rolls over, and on their sides they face each other. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he admits, and Stiles rolls his eyes. “It’s true. But I – I don’t know why you chose me over that other life.”

Stiles smiles, almost devilishly. “You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

Derek frowns.

“And you’re good. You’re so good,” he says, brushing Derek’s hair from his forehead. He leans in for a kiss, and Derek gives it to him, presses his body back into the mattress.

Stiles stills when Derek slowly takes off his shirt. He’s met with toned skin, gorgeous moles, and too many scars. Derek traces the raised skin with his fingers.

“Did it hurt?” he asks.

Stiles nods. “But I’m used to it.”

Derek presses a kiss to his skin. It’s warm and Derek vows to treasure the man in front of him for as long as he can, vows to show him the love he’s so clearly missed out on.

–

_December, 2016_

Stiles doesn’t talk much about his experiences. Derek rarely asks, but he doesn’t want to ignore that part of Stiles’ life. Derek knows he had been recruited at a young age, has travelled the world and can speak many languages, and he also knows that Stiles has killed more people than he can count on his fingers.

He’s also never had a family Christmas.

They arrive at the Hale house, arms wrapped around each other’s waists as they wait in the cold for the door to open. Things are still wonderfully good between them, and Derek loves him. He loves the way Stiles’ cheeks go red in the cold, loves the way he laughs.

Laura’s smile is forced when she answers the door.

“Stiles,” she says through her teeth.

Stiles beams at her. “Laura! I brought you some gingerbread cookies.”

He holds out a box, and Laura reluctantly takes it. Derek can see her irritation _almost_ fading, because she loves gingerbread and Stiles had made it himself.

Stiles sometimes gets obsessed with things. Sometimes it’s his job, sometimes it’s some fairly inane task. He wants to get good at it, cooking, knitting – anything. Derek sometimes watches him, amazed at how quickly he picks up new skills.

Derek also doesn’t have to pay for a mechanic to look at his car anymore.

“Thanks,” Laura says suspiciously. She lets them inside, and Stiles makes his way in and introduces himself to Derek’s parents. He’s charming, handsome, and Derek sometimes wonders how many situations Stiles had to use charm and wit to get out of.

He sometimes wonders how life here could possibly be appealing for him, with only simple things to look forward to.

There’s a too large Christmas tree in the corner of the room, and Stiles walks over to it and smells the pine. He walks around the edge of the room and looks at all the family photos hanging on the walls, his smile sad. Derek meets his eyes and Stiles leans forward to kiss him.

“So,” Laura says, as they eat Christmas dinner. “Where’s your family, Stiles?”

Stiles tenses. Derek honestly wonders what he will say. “They passed away, a long time ago.”

“Oh,” Laura says. She shoves some food into her mouth. “So, uh, you know last year. You seemed to leave town fairly quickly. Where did you go where there _wasn’t_ a phone that you could pick up and call Derek with?”

Stiles looks a little more prepared for this question. “I was in Russia,” he says smoothly, and goes to explain some research grant he probably made up. Derek knows for a fact that Stiles spent a lot of his time in Russia trying not to get killed.

Mr. Hale’s face lights up. “You speak Russian?”

Stiles nods, and they proceed to have a short conversation which sounds suspiciously like Mr. Hale is apologizing for his daughter’s behaviour, if the glances they throw her are any indication.

Laura scowls at her food, and gives up trying to make Stiles so uncomfortable.

At the end of the night, Stiles looks happier than he’s ever been. Derek’s parents loved him, loved talking to him, loved the pieces of knowledge he seemed to pull out of nowhere. When they get home, Derek kisses Stiles under a piece of mistletoe.

He thinks he understands a little why Stiles gave up his old life, because Derek doesn’t know how anyone could feel happier than this.

–

_February, 2017_

Derek turns on the TV and sees some news about an explosion in a warehouse on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. He looks at his watch and his stomach fills with dread when he realizes that Stiles should have been home by now.

He paces around the house, completely certain that Stiles had something to do with this. He texts Stiles’ phone but he gets nothing.

Derek doesn’t know what to do.

He falls asleep on the couch, his neck bent at an odd angle. The TV is still on in the background and he dreams of things he shouldn’t, of Stiles with blood trickling down his face. He wakes with a start when the front door opens.

“You’re still up,” Stiles says.

Derek wipes his eyes. It takes a moment before he notices the ash on Stiles’ face, the dirt on his clothes.

“Stiles,” he says breathlessly. He gets up and pulls Stiles to him, crashing their bodies together. Stiles pats his hair, almost confused.

“What’s wrong?” he says softly.

Derek pulls back and glares at him. “What were you thinking?”

“What?”

“You could have died!”

Stiles smirks at him. “Very small chance of that,” he says, running his hands down Derek’s chest. “There were only like twenty people there to take care of. Besides, it was official police business.”

Derek doesn’t feel very reassured. He stomps away and sits on the couch, folding his arms. He doesn’t know how to communicate that _he can’t have Stiles risking his life_.

Stiles sighs. He must be tired, but he comes around and sits patiently next to Derek.

“Derek?” he says gently.

“Did you have backup?”

Stiles huffs. “I don’t need backup.”

Derek looks away. He may not know much about fighting, and crime, and guns, but he’s sure that Stiles isn’t supposed to do anything alone.

Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s shoulder, rubs his thumb in circles. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset. I made sure that it couldn’t be traced back to me. I made sure that you weren’t in danger.”

Derek turns to him. “Stiles, I don’t want _you_ hurt. You’re important to me. I love you.”

“Oh,” he says, voice soft. Stiles’ eyes dart over his face. “I’m fine.”

“Next time you might not be so lucky,” Derek says.

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Stiles says confidently. “Besides, I asked for backup but my partner didn’t think that the warehouse had any relevance. I had to go on my own.”

Derek still glares at him.

“I love you, too,” Stiles says. He shuffles closer and brings their foreheads together. Derek reaches for him and hopes that there won’t be too many days like this, won’t be too many moments where Derek is fearing for Stiles’ life.

–

_March, 2017_

Derek wakes up in the middle of the night – alone. The sheets are cold and empty beside him and Derek’s mind travels to something terrible before he realizes he can hear Stiles up and about in the other room.

He rubs his eyes and slowly walks out to find him. Derek blinks a few times before his brain registers that Stiles is working out on the living room floor.

“What are you doing?” Derek says.

Stiles makes a noise and continues doing press-ups. Derek watches him, and in his tired haze he’s kind of impressed and aroused.

A few minutes later Stiles gets to his feet. His shirt looks sweaty.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says.

Derek stares at him. “So you… do this?”

Stiles nods, like it’s not weird at all. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Derek scrunches up his face, still confused, and Stiles chuckles softly. He comes forward and kisses Derek’s forehead before guiding him back to the bedroom. Derek likes the warm feel of Stiles’ hand on his back.

Derek whines when Stiles leaves the bedroom again.

“Shh,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

Derek waits, trying not to close his eyes, and then Stiles is climbing under the covers next to him. He looks wide awake.

“Do you do this every night?” Derek asks sleepily.

Stiles shrugs. “Most nights. I – I can’t sleep. I think of all the things I’ve done and now that I’m away from it all it seems so much more terrible.”

“You’re a good person,” Derek tells him, snuggling closer and throwing an arm over Stiles’ waist. He hears Stiles sigh. “And you already have a ridiculous exercise routine, you don’t need to do more.”

Stiles chuckles. “I do it just in case,” he says, and Derek frowns but he’s already too tired to question it. His breaths slow and he doesn’t remember the conversation well enough to ask Stiles what _just in case_ means.

–

_April, 2017_

Derek cooks breakfast wearing nothing but boxers and socks. He’s left Stiles in their bed, naked and dead to the world. He hums to himself as the bacon cooks, as the smell of coffee fills the air.

He picks up his phone. He wants to see if their application went through for joining their bank accounts, something that screamed commitment and made Derek feel happy and warm.

Derek looks at his account balance.

He looks again.

“Holy fuck,” Derek says, his face draining of blood. He doesn’t look at what he’s doing and the pan of bacon falls to the floor with a clatter. Derek yelps as he tries not to burn his feet and ends up making a bit too much noise.

In a heartbeat Stiles is there, still naked, holding a gun and his body poised. His eyes look dark and scary as he assesses the situation.

“Derek?”

Derek looks at him, and once Stiles realizes there’s nothing wrong his muscles go loose and warmth returns to his expression. He puts down the gun and picks up the fallen bacon.

“Babe?” he says, frowning as Derek still stares at him. Stiles glances at the gun. “That was my work gun, I promise.” He smiles playfully. “I am a police officer, you know.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, voice uneven. “Why is there thirty-two million dollars in our bank account?”

Stiles stills. “Let me go put on some sweatpants.”

Derek nods faintly and thinks he should sit down. He thinks he might have read that number wrong, and he can’t comprehend how much money that actually is. He’s been bringing his own mug to the coffee shop to save fifty cents!

Stiles comes in fully clothed and kneels before Derek on the couch. “So.”

“Thirty-two million.”

“Yeah.”

“ _Million._ ”

Stiles grins crookedly. “I have more money in other places if we run out.”

Derek covers his face with his hands. “Why are you driving that shitty jeep you found if you can afford a hundred sports cars?” he hisses.

Stiles shrugs. “I liked it.”

Derek looks at him. He still feels a bit woozy, and he has no idea what to do with so much money. Thirty-two million dollars.

Stiles hesitates. “Maybe I should have warned you, but you seemed really excited about sharing an account and I didn’t exactly get a chance.”

“I like things being _ours_ ,” Derek mumbles. Stiles smiles at him, tangles their fingers together.

“Me too,” he says. He takes a breath. “Derek, but, how I got that money – I’m not proud of it.”

Derek feels less like he’s flying. The money doesn’t seem so important anymore.

“I wanted to share it with you so that it meant something,” Stiles whispers, and Derek feels his heart fill with love and affection for this beautiful man in front of him. Derek smiles and cups Stiles’ jaw, thumb running over his lip. “And I was also sick of you turning off the heating _to save money_. I get cold, Derek. It’s a problem.”

Derek rolls his eyes, and settles for kissing him on the mouth.

–

_August, 2017_

Derek arrives home late from the library. He might have money now – something he still can’t wrap his head around – but he still loves his job. He doesn’t think he’ll ever give it up.

It’s strangely quiet as he walks up to the door and the silence leaves Derek unsettled even though he knows Stiles is working a double shift. Derek reaches the house, going cold when he finds the door already unlocked. He pushes it open, careful, so sure that he had remembered to lock up this morning.

He sees a flash of red hair, crimson lips, and then something comes crashing down on his head. He falls to the ground, unconscious.

–

Derek wakes up groggy. His hands are tied behind his back and he wonders how long he’s been here. His head aches, his arms ache.

“You’re awake,” says a voice. Derek looks up and sees a beautiful woman sitting on one of the old, almost broken, kitchen chairs. She’s filing her nails.

Derek takes a breath. He has to – he has to make sure Stiles doesn’t come home.

“I honestly expected a bigger challenge,” the woman says. “But all I had to do was disable a few alarm codes.”

Derek frowns. “We don’t have an alarm.”

She smirks. “You have several.”

She flicks her red hair past her shoulder and takes out a knife from her boot. Derek thinks she’s only doing it to look impressive, and he just looks as she uses the knife to turn a photo frame around. It holds a picture of Derek kissing Stiles’ cheek.

“How sweet,” she says.

Derek says nothing. She hasn’t really hurt him yet and he doesn’t want to tempt her.

The woman looks at her watch. “But he’s turned up faster than I was expecting,” she says, pleased. Derek tries not to feel relieved at her words and sure enough, they hear the front door open and close.

Stiles comes around the corner. He’s looks calm but then he glances at Derek.

“Jesus, Lydia,” he says. “You didn’t have to hurt him!”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t object as Stiles rushes forward and unties the ropes. Derek stands immediately, glaring and massaging his wrists.

“You _know_ her?” he hisses.

Stiles glares at the woman. “Unfortunately.”

Lydia doesn’t react. She watches as Stiles checks Derek for injuries, but Derek notices that despite his familiarity with their visitor Stiles is still incredibly alert, defensive. He stands in front of Derek as if to protect him.

“I can’t believe that you’ve settled for this sort of life, Stiles,” she says. “It seems so boring.”

“I know what you think about my choices,” he says stiffly. “Why are you here?”

“You owe me a favour,” Lydia says. There’s a glint in her eye. “I bet you were hoping that I had forgotten about it.”

Stiles mutters something under his breath. “Did anyone follow you here?” he finally says.

“I’m not an amateur,” she replies primly.

Derek stands back at the edge of the room, looking at the two of them. He feels dread fall over his skin, somehow knowing that Stiles’ past has caught up with him.

Stiles turns to him. “Derek,” he says softly.

“You’re not going with her,” he says.

“I have to,” he says, keeping one eye on Lydia. “She’s a friend and I owe her.”

Derek closes his eyes. He begins to shake his head.

Lydia sighs. “Calm down, lover boy. It won’t take longer than two weeks. Then you two can get back to whatever it is that’s so great about domestic life.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, then he looks back at Derek, a thousand apologies in his eyes. Derek curls his fingers at his sides, resisting the urge to clutch at him and never let him go.

“I’ll brief you on the way there,” Lydia says, standing up. “We don’t have that much time.”

Derek looks hopelessly at Stiles.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he says quietly. Derek doesn’t know what to say, just remembers what it felt like the first time that Stiles left him for this world. He hadn’t seen him for a whole year, then.

Stiles leaves – Derek vaguely remembers a brief kiss before he’s gone. His badge stays at home, his gun, his phone. Derek knows that he won’t hear from Stiles while he’s away, knows that it’s too dangerous.

Derek watches as his boyfriend walks out of their home with a stranger, overwhelmed with the fear that he won’t come back.

–

Derek doesn’t know what to do with himself when two weeks pass. He hasn’t heard from Stiles, or Lydia, and he’s so scared that something has gone wrong.

Stiles hasn’t been a spy for so long now, and he’s surely out of practice. Derek worries that something so horrible has happened that he can’t even comprehend it. Stiles has let slip some of the things he’s done – casually, almost on purpose, as if to test Derek’s reaction.

Derek knows that it isn’t all fun and games.

He lets his sister think that they’ve had a fight. It’s the only way he can explain Stiles’ absence without her questioning it.

“You seriously haven’t talked to him in over a week?” Laura says.

Derek makes a noise.

“I totally knew he’d do something like this,” she says, her eyes going angry and wide. Derek doesn’t even bother replying to that. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“But he has, like, no friends to stay with!” Laura says. Derek will admit that Stiles struggles to make connections with ‘normal’ people, but he does have friends. He even went out to drinks with some of them before Stiles got whisked away by his past.

Soon it’s a month that’s gone by and Derek wants to fucking scream. But he can’t _do_ anything, he can’t talk to anyone because he can’t tell Stiles’ secret.

At least he has fucking money now.

Derek goes to bed alone and he hates how quickly Stiles had left. They didn’t have time to talk about any of this, and Derek had to ring the police station and let them know Stiles had to go out of town for an emergency.

He lies awake and wonders how long he’s supposed to wait.

Derek manages to doze off, but a couple of hours later he hears the floorboards creak. Derek tries to ignore it but he swears someone is whispering his name – and then there’s a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

Derek catches it, unsure, and blinks himself awake.

“Stiles,” he breathes, his grip bruising. They look at each other, and amber eyes stare back at him in the dark. “ _Stiles_.”

His lips quirk up in a small smile and Derek doesn’t wait. He reaches for Stiles and pulls him harshly to the bed, mouthing at his neck, his jaw, until Derek finds his lips and kisses him hard.

Stiles falls into him willingly. “I missed you,” he says, his hands dragging through Derek’s hair.

“I thought,” Derek kisses him again, pulls him closer. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles manages, dragging his lips over Derek’s.

Derek whines, filled with nothing but the desire to have Stiles near. It’s been so long, and Derek had thought the worst.

“Ahh _,_ _ouch_ ,” Stiles says, pulling back. He rolls over and clutches his side. Derek stares at him, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to rip my stitches out.”

“What happened?” Derek demands.

Stiles grins lazily up at him, and he drags his fingertips down Derek’s cheek. “I’m okay,” he says, but then he lifts his shirt. “I guess I was a little too ambitious. Gun shot.”

Derek glares at him, trying not to react when he sees the bandages on Stiles’ side.

“It’s why I was late,” Stiles says. “But I’m home now.”

Derek gently shifts closer to him. “Don’t go away again.”

“I won’t,” Stiles promises, linking their fingers together. “The Banshee knows better than to come calling again.”

“The Banshee?”

“Lydia,” Stiles explains.

“Oh,” Derek says. “That’s a stupid name.”

Stiles laughs quietly, and Derek feels a calming happiness now that Stiles is here. He’s almost afraid that it’s a dream, but he gives in anyway when Stiles tells him to close his eyes and sleep.

–

Derek wakes up, curled around his boyfriend’s body. Stiles’ lips stretch out into a smile when he realizes that Derek’s awake.

“You’re really here,” Derek says, feeling lighter than he has in weeks.

“Yeah.”

Derek lets out a breath. He takes in the moles on Stiles’ face, the striking colour of his eyes. Derek loves him so much.

“I got you something,” Stiles says. He looks nervous. “So, um, Lydia needed help with this _thing_. It was harder than expected – I mean I got shot – which means she felt bad. So I asked her to get me something for you.”

Stiles climbs off the bed, hiding a wince from his injury. Derek grumbles as he leaves but Stiles just grins at him and tells him to be patient.

“I _was_ patient,” Derek points out.

“I know,” Stiles says when he returns, kissing Derek once. He comes back under the sheets. “Here,” he says. It takes Derek a moment to tear his gaze away from Stiles’ eyes.

He opens his palm and reveals a band of gold. Derek’s heart flips over in his chest and slowly, he takes the ring from Stiles’ hands. On the inside there is an inscription.

“ _Derek Hale_ _and_ …” he frowns, not recognising the foreign script.

“That’s my name,” Stiles whispers. “My real name, before I recycled identity after identity.”

Derek swallows, meets his gaze. “You trust me with this?”

Stiles smiles softly at him. “I trust you with my life, Derek. I – I know you were probably scared while I was gone. I wanted to talk to you all the fucking time, but I didn’t want anyone to find you. You’re too important to me.”

Derek stares at him.

“It was exciting, to be with Lydia again and to do all those things. But I quickly realized that I can’t love anything as much as I love you,” he links their fingers together. “And I want you, forever, if you’ll have me.”

Derek’s heart pounds as he runs his eyes over the inscription once more. Then he slips the ring onto his finger.

“Yes,” Derek says. “Yes.”

Stiles’ eyes shine, and soon he’s beaming. Derek carefully leans over him and kisses him, so glad to have Stiles back in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading. You know if I could spend all day writing this universe I would. Seriously.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr.](https://matildajones.tumblr.com)


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